


breathe you in every single day

by pendules



Series: not at all casual [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Nonverbal Communication, The Raven King Spoilers, Touching, adam has No Chill about casual touching, is anyone surprised by this turn of events, ronan also has No Chill about casual touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:36:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendules/pseuds/pendules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time Ronan leans over and kisses him when he drops him off at St. Agnes after his late shift, Adam just stares at him wordlessly for a moment before he manages to find his voice and utter an awkward "Thanks" and fumbles to open the door and practically bolts up the stairs to his apartment. It takes a long while to school his heartbeat back to a moderately normal rate and to make his brain actually begin to absorb the line he's been reading over and over for the last fifteen minutes.</i>
</p><p>Or: Adam and Ronan slowly learn about casual affection that isn't casual at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	breathe you in every single day

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a fic where they communicate mainly by touch, so this is kind of that. 
> 
> Also, this isn't really about sex (even though they do get there by the end, spoiler alert) but most of the songs about touching are about sex, obviously, so have [some songs I listened to while writing this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ehj9iBItB4&list=PLPBtNqO4MTqBHlvN2grZkft_cjJ_t-sSV&index=1) (that are totally about sex, but the vibes are cool, whatever).

The first time Ronan leans over and kisses him when he drops him off at St. Agnes after his late shift, Adam just stares at him wordlessly for a moment before he manages to find his voice and utter an awkward "Thanks" and fumbles to open the door and practically bolts up the stairs to his apartment. It takes a long while to school his heartbeat back to a moderately normal rate and to make his brain actually begin to absorb the line he's been reading over and over for the last fifteen minutes.

He knows it's probably a disproportionate and irrational response to an innocuous, unassuming gesture. They've kissed a dozen times already, but this one still feels _different_ than any of those. Those were always built up to: after an hour or two spent well-meaningly messing up the kitchen or gamely running around in the fields with Opal or sleepily half-concentrating on a shitty movie with a nonexistent plot, Ronan would press him up against the counter or pull him closer where they were sitting on the porch steps or curl their bodies around each other on the couch before meeting his mouth with his. It would usually last quite a long time, both of them letting out all their pent-up desire from being around each other all day and not touching. Then they would break apart and that would be it until the next time.

He isn't entirely sure how to process _this_. It feels like a taste of something wondrous and irresistible to look forward to. Feels like a gift he can receive over and over again that he's always going to be thankful for. He knows all about delayed gratification but this has never felt like that. It feels like home. Like having time. Like this is his life now. He's never wanted anything this intensely, this completely, this immediately, before — especially now that he knows Ronan wants it too, that he can have it, that there's no price to be paid for wanting it — but there's no rush, there are days and months and years to fill with all of it. Not just sex but being close to him, touching and being touched, in all the sweet, spontaneous, casually affectionate ways they can for as long as they can. It feels like a whole new dam of longing has broken inside of him with a short brush of his mouth against Adam's. He knows Ronan probably did it unthinkingly, fondly, but now he can't sleep, remembering his soft lips and his intoxicating scent and his fingers on the nape of his neck and curled into the short hairs at the base of his skull. He knows Ronan probably didn't expect anything in return but he's frustrated that he doesn't know how to show him how much his unconscious displays of affection mean to him anyway.

He should've known they would come to this place at some point in time. They're both tactile people and they've gotten more comfortable being in each other's personal space. It took a while for Adam to learn how to navigate this new thing between them in the early days, though, especially with Ronan brittle and quiet and gradually starting to heal from everything that had happened to them. He didn't know yet what Ronan needed from him or didn't need. But the first time he'd kissed him after, they were in the kitchen at the Barns before Adam left for school one morning, and Ronan didn't say anything, just nodded before leaning in and Adam knew it meant _Thank you_ and _I'm glad you're here_. And that was all he needed. It felt like a small but unimaginable relief, knowing that although the weeks and months to come would be almost unbearably difficult, they'd have this: lips finding lips and hands fitting into hands and Ronan leaning into him, him leaning into Ronan, keeping each other from falling.

Speaking in gestures, in looks, in smirks and eye-rolls and companionable silence, instead of words isn't remotely a new form of communication for them, but it's slightly more complicated now that just Ronan's thigh pressed against his, through two layers of jeans, in the booth at Nino's makes his skin catch fire, now that Ronan's soft smile in the morning makes him think of a future where he wakes up to this every day. It feels fraught with opportunities for misunderstandings and mistranslations, especially since they're both inexperienced in this kind of romantic intimacy. Since this is only the beginning. And he doesn't want to do anything to mess it up. He wants to know what each casual kiss and touch means and he wants to return them.

It should feel good, should be all he ever wanted, and it _does_ , it _is_ — but it's also a lot to handle. It doesn't _feel_ anything like casual, because nothing about Ronan and him is casual. And he doesn't want casual. He wants all of it. So badly that it kind of scares the shit out of him.

*

So, it happens a lot after that: good morning kisses and goodbye kisses and hello kisses even in front of the others and brief kisses pressed to cheeks in exchange for a cup of coffee and fingers curled around wrists in lieu of _I'm sorry, I'm here_ when one or both of them are having a bad day. Adam never knows what to say, but he figures that's the point. He's still not sure how to respond when Ronan initiates it either. He thinks about holding his hand sometimes, vaguely, achingly, but he doesn't know if they're _there_ yet. He just stares at his hand, loosely wrapped around the gearshift, and chickens out every time.

The first time Ronan takes his hand and gently presses his mouth to his knuckles in front of their friends in the middle of a stupid fight, it's a vulnerable, unselfconscious gesture, and he forgets every word he was about to say. Ronan mouths "Sorry" at him before letting go of his hand, and it feels like it should make everything more awkward, but it doesn't — everyone just stares at them for a few seconds before changing the subject — it just feels like their own private way to defuse the tension between them now. An apology. An assurance that apologies are not necessary. The first time he'd done it, it was the night after Adam's stolen hands had tried to strangle the life out of him, and it was well after midnight and Ronan had said he was going to bed and he'd taken his hands in his own and it was hard not to reflexively flinch away — he knew it was illogical and they were safe now but he couldn't completely quiet the echo of fear in his heart that maybe his hands would turn on them again if they made contact with Ronan's skin — and he almost cringed looking at the finger-shaped bruises on his neck but Ronan had kissed both his hands, carefully, reverently, and he knew it meant _We're okay_ and _You don't have to say anything_ and _There's nothing to be sorry for._

On the way home, Adam takes a breath before reaching out and resting his hand over Ronan's. Ronan doesn't catch his eye when he glances at his face but he sees the corners of his lips quirk upwards almost imperceptibly.

*

They're sitting in Monmouth and Adam hasn't said anything in awhile and he's aware that he's been staring off into space and totally zoning out of this conversation and probably being extremely rude.

"You okay?" Gansey asks eventually, but his tone's thankfully concerned and not offended.

"Yeah — just thinking."

"About?" Gansey asks, sounding like he already knows exactly what (or more accurately, who) is preoccupying his thoughts.

Adam exhales. "It's just — the whole _touching_ thing is a lot, isn't it?"

Gansey looks startled for half a second only, which is pretty impressive. "What?"

"I mean, to go from not touching someone to touching them all the time is a bit intense, right?"

Gansey just stares at him. "What?" he asks again, like he's doubting his own hearing.

"I don't mean — like, not just in a sexual way or anything. It's a lot, isn't it? I mean, you and Blue touch each other all the time —" 

Gansey nods stiffly. He wonders if Gansey's really the best person to talk to about this. They _do_ touch a lot, but Adam's never observed either of them looking like they're about to burst into flames after either. He wonders if there's something wrong with him. He wonders if it's just because they spent so long touching each other and not being able to kiss that they got accustomed to it.

"Yeah, I mean — it _is_ intense. But it feels really good, too. You feel good when — uh, Ronan touches you, right?"

"Yeah, I do," he says immediately. "That's _not_ — I just — I don't know how to reciprocate most of the time." 

Gansey shrugs. "It's still new, you know. You have time to — to _explore_. To figure out how you work together best."

"What if I'm — just not good at it?" he asks quietly.

"You should see the way he looks at you," Gansey says simply. "I think you're doing fine."

*

Touching Ronan like this — touch for the sake of touch, not leading to something else, not for gain or out of obligation, but something more real, more truthful — feels like learning a new language. He has the vocabulary, has all the theoretical knowledge. Putting it to use is harder: arranging syntax and choosing verb forms and responding to cues. Actually having a conversation. But Adam's good at learning. He wants to keep learning this for as long as he can. 

* 

It's still overwhelming when Ronan's body's so familiar and always so close and each light graze of their fingers feels like a match being struck and every time their eyes meet over the table or in the car he has to look away and catch his breath, though.

Ronan's lying on his bed, pretending to be reading but actually stealing looks at him over his book. He can feel his gaze on the side of his neck.

"Stop doing that," he says, without raising his head from his work.

"I'm literally just lying here," he says, amused. "I'm not even _close_ to touching you."

"But I can _remember_ you touching me. _Vividly_ ," he says, his cheeks feeling hot.

"You mean — before?" he says, feigning confusion. "When I —" Adam doesn't have to see his face to know he's smirking in an annoyingly self-satisfied way.

"When you tried to maul my neck. Yes," he cuts him off sharply. The rest of him starts feeling hot now, too. He's sure there are marks that his uniform won't entirely cover. He's sure that's exactly the spot Ronan was staring at before.

"Hey, you _liked_ that. It's not my fault you got all frisky from me kissing your shoulder. _Through your shirt._ "

" _Oh my god_. Shut up," he says, cringing.

"Do you want me to stop?" Ronan says seriously now.

"What?" he says, finally turning around in his chair to look at him.

"I mean — if it's distracting or whatever. We don't have to —"

"What?" he says again, stupidly. "No. _Jesus._ I _like_ that. I like _all_ of that. I just — I'm not used to it."

"I know," Ronan says gently. "I'm not either."

"Yeah, but —" Ronan's much better at it. They both know it. He's fluent in the language of touch and actions and bodies. Of saying what he needs to without saying anything at all. Somehow, he always knows precisely the right thing to do. When he needs space and when he wants to be close to him. Without having to be asked. Being able to touch Adam makes him stronger, more certain, while it just seems to throw Adam off-kilter most of the time. Sometimes, it's frustrating — not knowing how to express anything he's feeling, words and touch both rendered absolutely futile.

"We can go slower, if you want," Ronan suggests quietly.

Adam almost laughs. When it comes to physical intimacy in the traditional sense of the term, they _have_ been going slow. Even if nothing else about this feels slow. And he's fine with it. He wonders if having sex would make it better: craving his touch all the time, feeling like his nerve-endings are going to explode from every feather-light sensation of skin brushing skin, feeling dizzy from all the selfless, unrestrained affection, this desperate need to give it all back to him. Or maybe it would make it even more uncontrollable.

"I don't want to go slower," he says honestly. "I want you to do what feels right. And this feels right to me too. I'm just — I'm still figuring out how to return it."

"You don't _have_ to do anything, you know."

"I know," he says, nodding. "But I _want_ to."

"You think way too much, you know," Ronan says.

"Well, _one_ of us has to," he says with a grin before going back to his homework.

"Asshole," Ronan mutters.

*

After a while, he figures two can play at this game. Maybe he _has_ been thinking about it too much. So, he surrenders to instinct instead. He comes back to the Barns after work and _casually_ rests his head in Ronan's lap. He only tenses up for a moment before running his fingers through his hair. Adam closes his eyes and sighs contentedly. He _casually_ rests his head on Ronan's shoulder in the backseat of the Pig, feels his arm tighten around his waist, his fingers curl around his hip. He _casually_ rests his hand on Ronan's thigh when they're sitting next to each other at Nino's. He smiles when he hears his breath hitch. Ronan swallows hard before slinging an arm around his shoulders. He _casually_ stands too near to him, whispers close enough that he can feel his breath on his ear, adrenaline flooding his own veins when he feels Ronan's pulse spike. He _casually_ holds his hand all the time. He memorises the lines of his soft palm against his own, the grooves between his fingers, the worn leather of his bracelets brushing against his own wrist. Sometimes Ronan traces patterns onto his palm under the table and it feels like being hypnotised. Sometimes he takes his hand in his own and squeezes it gently, when they're lying facing each other on his bed or in a field gazing at the sky, and it feels like there's nothing else in the world. Nothing bad. Nothing painful. Just for a moment.

Their first actual date is the Friday before spring break and Ronan sneaks them into a terrible indie horror flick and the theatre's mostly deserted and their fingers touch grabbing handfuls of salty popcorn and Ronan crosses his ankle over Adam's and they nudge each other's sides with their elbows to share laughs at the inane shit going on onscreen and eventually they give up even pretending to care and Adam pulls him in by the front of his jacket and kisses him, slow and dirty and dangerous and somehow unlike any other kiss they've ever had before. Ronan pulls back and just stares at him, pupils blown wide, before leaning in and whispering, "Let's get out of here," right in his hearing ear.

They walk out of the movie before anything remotely interesting happens and Ronan laces his fingers through his as they walk to the car.

People are probably staring at them. He couldn't care less. He can't suppress his own grin.

*

They make out in the car for half an hour before Ronan finally starts driving them back to his place.

He goes the speed limit which feels ridiculous at this particular charged moment in time, but Adam can see that he's excited and nervous and everything Adam's feeling too, from his grip on the wheel, the way he seems to be deliberately keeping his breathing steady, the tension in his hand under Adam's. Adam strokes his thumb over the tender skin on the inside of his wrist and Ronan closes his eyes for a moment and his posture relaxes.

He almost says _So we're really doing this, right?_ They still haven't talked about it much. About what they are. He feels like they should, before they do something they can't go back from. But it's _all_ felt like something they couldn't go back from. From the very beginning. Adam doesn't want to.

"This feels right, doesn't it?" Adam asks softly.

"Are you thinking too much again?" Ronan says but there's no heat in it.

"One of us has to," he reminds him but it comes out weak.

"Well, I _think_ that I really want to touch you. All of you. Do you want me to?"

Adam flushes all over. It feels like the temperature in the car has gone up ten degrees in the last ten seconds.

"I _think_ that I want that very, very much," he says, his voice hoarse. "And I _think_ I want to return the favour. _Badly_."

"Good."

He stops the car outside St. Agnes and he almost wants to burst into hysterical giggles remembering when Ronan had dropped him off all those months ago and he'd had a crisis over a brief goodnight kiss. He figures there won't be one of those tonight. He feels like his happiness is suddenly too much for his skin to contain.

He breathes in. Breathes out. "Wanna come up?" he asks, casually, definitely not casually. Nothing about them is casual.

Ronan glances across at him and squeezes his hand. He nods before getting out.


End file.
